


the formation of a constellation

by polares



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anyways, Depressed Miya Atsumu, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, References to Depression, Sad Miya Atsumu, Soft Sakusa Kiyoomi, alright tw time, hello., i return, i think those are all of them, im so sorry, oh man... the projection is strong, sakusa just wants atsumu to be okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:00:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27971993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polares/pseuds/polares
Summary: This is an intricate dance between Miya Atsumu, life, and his love for Sakusa Kiyoomi. This is a car ride with too many stops. This is how Miya Atsumu (almost) dies.An explosion of atoms, a fucking black hole.This how Sakusa Kiyoomi breaks and how Atsumu learns to breathe.This is how a constellation forms.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 104





	the formation of a constellation

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO. um . this has been sitting in my drafts for a good two months my bad. um . um um. nothing else to say hello I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> follow me on twt if u would like!!! @akiangcl

“I wonder sometimes whether you've exploded already, like a star, and what I'm seeing is you, three million years into the past, and you're not here anymore. How can we be together here, now, when you are so far away? When you are so far ago? I'm shouting so loudly, but you never turn around to see me. Perhaps it is I who have already exploded. Either way, we are going to bring beautiful things into the universe.”   
**_Alice Oseman_**

_**I.** _

It is the first breath of a baby that defines what it is to be alive. And then there is the first word and the first step and all of a sudden there is a happy child running barefoot, the grass is a shade of sparkling emerald, drops of dew sticking to the top of the weeds. The universe gains a new star every time he laughs and his mother watches, her eyes crinkling like the moon—

the loneliest being, drifting from the earth a mere three centimeters each year.

Three centimeters never felt more suffocating when all the gravity from his life is suspended and he is in midair.

And now the sun stings every day, and nights are dark—too dark.

He watched as they lowered her into the ground, and salt kissed his face while he held his brother’s hand and he was sure if scientists cut open his chest, they’d find a heart so tattered and torn, they wouldn’t know if he was human anymore.

It was the first breath at birth—and the last breath at fifteen, when he declared himself

dead.

_**II.** _

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“Fuck you.”

Atsumu refused to break eye contact with the curly-haired man in front of him. Kiyoomi Sakusa was many things, Atsumu knew that, and he’d made a list of all of those things (and he loved every single one so much it that it was like a pair of strong arms had long ago started to choke him, so slow).

  1. Kiyoomi swore when he was angry when he was most vulnerable to anyone else’s emotions—and Atsumu tested these emotions too regularly to deserve forgiveness—he knew that.
  2. Kiyoomi was an artist—and he kissed and sucked the color out of and into Atsumu’s life.
  3. Kiyoomi had mysophobia.
  4. Kiyoomi only lets Atsumu touch him.
  5. Kiyoomi was Atsumu’s best friend, much to the world's dismay.



“Look at where you fucking are you bastard! I found you on the floor, practically dead! I’m so fucking ang—”

“Sir if you could please keep it down, the rest of our patients are having visitations in this room as well.”

Atsumu laughed quietly as a wildfire spread on Kiyoomi’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

Atsumu smiled.

“You can’t apologize for that Atsumu—not fucking ever. I—Everyone is so worried about you.”

“Mhm.”

“You’re talking to me like you really did die you sick fuck.”

“So, what if I did? What are you going to do Sakusa? Kiss it fucking better? I’m a twenty-four-year-old who’s allowed to make his own fucking decisions.”

“Not at the expense of other’s fucking feelings.”

“You, of all people, have no right to say that to me.”

The silence in the air was sticky and jam-like—Kiyoomi’s eyes were bloodshot and strained, and Atsumu sat across from him in casual clothing, an oversized hoodie making his frame look larger than it really was.

“—I brought you that book I wanted to give you—and some onigiri, from your brother.”

Kiyoomi was disheveled—the human before Atsumu looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He looked like there was a layer of grime covering his heart and poison was slowly seeping into his veins—killing him slowly.

“Do you hate me?”

“A fuck ton.”

“What’s the book about again?”

“read it.”

_(It was pride & prejudice.)_

“Okay.”

Atsumu thought Kiyoomi was more beautiful than Venus, than Aphrodite, than the way dew drops glided down leaves and stems and skin.

Kiyoomi Sakusa was an enigma—and until him, Atsumu thought he was dead, no longer breathing.

When he saw Sakusa, he let out the breath he had so carefully been holding all those years.

“How long am I here for omi?”

“You tried to kill yourself—answer that yourself.”

“Details aren’t importa—”

“Are you even listening to yourself? I’m tired of everything being a joke Atsumu. I’m really fucking tired.”

“Why are you still here then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Leave then, walk out.”

Silence—a butter knife slides some strawberry jam onto a burnt piece of toast.

“I’m not you.”

Atsumu takes a bite anyway.

_**III.** _

Atsumu left the hospital after a long month. Kiyoomi had been there to pick him up, the same time he came for visitations.

His hair was longer, and he’d started to wear his glasses more—and he wore Atsumu’s clothes like he was afraid of waking up one day to Atsumu being gone—for good.

“Miss me omi?” Atsumu felt the sun kiss his skin—a kiss that bit and stung and drew blood and hurt in so many ways.

“Get in the fucking car, everyone’s waiting for you.”

“I don’t wanna be with anyone but ya’ tonight.”

“Too bad—now get in the car.”

Osaka was pretty from behind Kiyoomi’s car window. The windows were down, letting the nice Autumn breeze hug Atsumu inside the vehicle.

Kiyoomi played some Western music with a melancholic tune and Atsumu found himself enjoying just about every second of it.

“You know English right Omi? Tell me what she’s saying.”

Kiyoomi stays silent, keeping his eyes on the road while the song dances between them like all the happy lovers in the world.

“Tell me the name—I wanna know omi-kun!”

“Stop being silly Atsumu—it’s just a song.”

“Tell me what they mean then, the lyrics.”

“No.”

“Very suspicious.”

The cars outside were boring, so were the buildings and the trees—the only thing Atsumu wanted to watch was Kiyoomi.

“Welcome back ‘Tsumu!”

“We missed you!”

There was a cacophony of voices in Atsumu’s apartment and the walls were probably vibrating—but not as much as the guilt that vibrated from his own body as he took a look at his brother.

He was thin and frail and tired looking.

And he lost a mother too.

Atsumu was surrounded by his teammates, crushing him in hugs and telling him sweet little things about how happy they were to have him back, but all Atsumu could see was Sakusa slip away into the kitchen, Osamu following.

“Tsumu! We got you some gifts, come sit down and open them!” Hinata’s voice was bubbly and happy as always.

“In a second.” Atsumu pushed his way out of the group and into the kitchen.

“I just got back—can ya guys stop worrying about me for one second?”

It was a whisper—a silent plea.

“You selfish fucking prick. Look at your brother—look hard. When will anyone stop worrying about you?”

Kiyoomi’s fists hit Atsumu’s chest as his voice cracked and he became bare.

“Omi—I told ya—just ya and me, for tonight.”

“No Atsumu. There are people outside this kitchen that missed you, basically fucking mourned you because you always act as good as dead.

We can talk later.”

“Omi—”

“Get the fuck out of this kitchen.”

They ended up on the couch, piled on top of each other like bags of flour, seeing pictures pop on the screen but not really watching for the plot—just waiting for his friends to clear out so he could really talk to Kiyoomi.

Maybe apologize.

There were reruns of Naruto, and then Kiyoomi played his favorite movie and everyone absolutely loved it but didn’t understand it.

Atsumu remembers—

_In the Mood for Love._

Atsumu would say he was in the mood for love too—too bad he believed the universe had different plans for him.

It was a pretty film, sad in the most beautiful way, and Atsumu felt like getting up and screaming into a hole in the wall and confessing all of his sins.

He felt like giving his mom a goodbye kiss on her cratered cheek, hoping it ease the pain of knowing he couldn’t feel her anymore.

He felt like getting up and jumping out of his apartment window, letting the blood seep out from his cracked skull, dying in a second.

He felt like getting up and grabbing Kiyoomi by the arms and crying into the space between his neck and collarbones.

He felt like a cracked egg, his yolk—his lifeforce draining out of him, and everything felt like nothing—and there were no answers left in the world to stop all of that nothing.

He didn’t cry when the ending came along.

_That was how it was meant to be._

The credits rolled and he felt tears sinking into his skin and looked from the tv to his teammates, whose faces looked like broken dams.

“Omi-Omi! Why would you play that? It was too good but so sad!” Hinata hiccupped through his tears.

“I was in the mood.”

_In the mood for what?_

“Omi-san, you always have the best taste!”

And more compliments, more beers, more “I missed you’s” and too many hugs as his friends exited his apartment.

Kiyoomi sat on the couch beside Osamu, knees tucked into his chest.

“Atsumu. Sit.”

And so, he did.

“Are you ever going to apologize?”

“I left ya both notes.”

Kiyoomi’s hands were cold as they pressed into Atsumu’s, his eyes even colder as he looked Atsumu in his irises.

“I almost lost you.”

And another dam broke that day.

And it is Kiyoomi that places his head in the space between Atsumu’s neck and collarbone.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. Apologize to me when you mean it—I’ll wait.”

“Why?”

“You’ve never given me a reason to leave.”

Atsumu combed Kiyoomi’s hair with his fingers.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Hold me like the world is ending?”

“Feels like it is—sometimes.”

Kiyoomi cries harder.

_**IV.** _

“Tell me about your roommate again.”

Atsumu’s laugh filled the gaps in Kiyoomi’s life.

“Again? I already broke the privacy rule once Omi-Omi.”

_I’d break more—I’d be a wanted man for you._

“Then—tell me about your mom.”

Kiyoomi carried a loaded gun with him at all times, this time, he’d aimed it directly at Atsumu’s heart.

“I’d rather not.”

“Atsumu. Please.”

_Please._

_I just want you to be okay. I love you so much it hurts. So please dump all of your dirty laundry on me._

_I love you_

_I love you._

_I wouldn’t know a life without you._

Ok.

“She was pretty. And nice.

She’d let me and Osamu run in the yard barefoot in summer. And she’d buy us icicles whenever one of those ice cream vendors passed by.

Her eyes, they looked like crescents when she smiled.

And she was so beautiful.

Ya remind me of her.”

Atsumu cried silently as a lamb and Kiyoomi held him with the strength of a Greek demigod.

“Atsumu. You know that pain—of losing someone like that. Because they take their life and everything else, they love with them—you know that.

That’s how I felt when I saw you.”

Atsumu’s tears flowed harder.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, I don’t want ya to hurt please—”

“I know.”

_It’s late for that,_

_but late is better than never_

_and I love you as my life depends on it._

_What is love without hurt_

_anyway? If not but_

_a semblance of unfulfilled happiness._

_I want all of you._

_I want all of you—so, please—_

_give me all of you._

“Remember the song that was playing in the car when I picked you up last month?”

“Yeah, I remember the tune but ya wouldn’t tell me the name.”

“It’s by Phoebe Bridgers—a Western singer.

The song is called _motion sickness._

“I liked it—a lot.”

“Me too.

You want me to play it?’

And so, they laid on Kiyoomi’s bed—Atsumu’s head in his lap while Phoebe Bridgers lulled him to sleep, long before he could process what the lyrics had meant.

_**V.** _

Atsumu takes Kiyoomi with him to therapy.

Kiyoomi patiently sits outside—

The world doesn’t feel like it’s ending.

Atsumu uses a whole box of the therapists’ tissue supply and wails about his mother and how he wishes he could have said goodbye properly—

And how he wants to get better and be better.

_There is a human being outside this door,_

_heart on his sleeve like I won’t break it._

_Please, help me—so I don’t, break it._

_**VI.** _

They win games and stay in bed with each other, pushing on boundaries that had long ago been crossed.

Atsumu wakes up early and makes Kiyoomi tea and kisses his forehead and places kisses down the curve of his spine while he sips on his tea, watching the sunrise from behind the city skyline.

Atsumu is gentle.

Kiyoomi is crying because he is in love.

_**VII.** _

Atsumu watches as the light in Kiyoomi’s eyes flickers.

_Turn to me._

_Turn to me and I’ll look in your eyes and tell you that I love you._

_Then you are the sun in this world I’ve hated for so long—_

_And I am ready to love you._

It’s funny how when one is ready, things change.

Time is cruel.

All-consuming,

But time has a plan.

_If my answer is always you_

_let come what may._

_**VIII.** _

Atsumu wakes up every morning and takes his pills and looks over at the human who sleeps beside him.

And he makes him tea and kisses his back and his moles and he feels Kiyoomi shake and

then there’s porcelain on the floor and hot tea on Kiyoomi’s bedsheets but Kiyoomi has knocked Atsumu on his back and has him looking into his eyes.

“Atsumu. Please.”

_I’ve waited so long_

_and I’d still probably wait forever so please,_

_tell me this is real._

“Kiyoomi—hey, look at me.

I want ya’ to kiss me.”

And Kiyoomi is drenched in rain as he dives in to kiss the lips he so desired for millennia.

And then Atsumu pulls away.

“Would you look at that?”

“At what.”

“The world’s not ending Omi.”

_**IX.** _

Atsumu tells Kiyoomi he loves him in his therapy office waiting room.

_**X.** _

Kiyoomi watches as Atsumu runs through emerald grass in the summer, barefoot and alive.

_This is love._

_He is love._

_And he is here._

Atsumu drags Kiyoomi with him onto the grass and they laugh, and stars are birthed into the universe—they look pink and green and yellow and they shine like the glimmer in Atsumu’s eyes whenever he goes for a kiss.

and they create their own constellation.

They name it Natsu.

_Summer._

“He is half of my soul, as the poets say.”

**_Madeline miller_ **

_**Fin.** _


End file.
